


Multitudes

by mrs_leary (julie)



Series: Multitudes [1]
Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-19
Updated: 2009-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley goes to see Colin starring in a play in a dangerous part of town, and ends up feeling that everything he thought he knew about himself and about Colin is being challenged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Multitudes

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** OK, lots of warnings with this one! It's a bit darker than the Merlin RPS I've read so far, and certainly darker than my last effort which featured weddings and rainbows…  
>  ♦ This version of Colin is a bit out there on the edge, but please be assured that I am totally making it all up, including the alleged rumours, etc, etc. I am basically intrigued by the differences between the glimpses we have of his theatre work and the sweet adorkable guy we see in the Merlin video diaries, and am exploring that. The results won’t be to all tastes!  
> ♦ Also, Bradley witnesses an act he assumes is homosexual rape (not involving anyone we know!), though it’s really more of a dub-con situation.  
> ♦ If you think you can cope with all that, please read on!
> 
>  **Notes:** Thanks are due to **glimmergirl** and especially **gealach_ros** , who let me pester them with questions.
> 
> ♥ Cool! In July 2009, this fic was nominated for the Excalibur Awards, in the RPF categories: Best Characterisation for Bradley; Best Dark; and Best Overall. Iz happy 'n' proud!
> 
> ♥ Humble thanks are due to **i_lovetherain** , who posted a hot photo manip in honour of this story. [This way to the hotties!](http://i-lovetherain.livejournal.com/81889.html)

♦

The theatre was in a bad part of town – and Bradley had forgotten which taxi service Colin told him to use, as the other companies refused to drive there – so he’d only just reached his seat when the auditorium lights abruptly went out. Then, because he hadn’t done his homework and of course hadn’t been able to consult his program, Bradley spent an hour sitting in the dark both literally and metaphorically.

The plot of the play, if there was one, seemed to unfold in no particular order, certainly not forwards nor indeed backwards in time. The action and dialogue seemed intended to shock rather than enlighten or even question. The props, set and design were minimal and hardly even suggestive. The acting generally was far too stylised to feel at all real at any level. The one thing that held Bradley’s attention in the whole production was Colin Morgan himself. He was the only actor who took the pretentiously stylised tone of the whole thing and made it _work_ , made it seem as natural as breathing. As a result, Bradley soon found he couldn’t take his eyes off the man.

The intermission released him at last, and he went in search of a stiff drink. The rest of the audience, mostly dressed in washed–out black and sporting interestingly coloured hair, bought drinks and headed outside to smoke. Which left Bradley pretty much alone in a large bar being curiously stared at by a group of five _Merlin_ fans. At least, he assumed they were _Merlin_ fans, because he couldn’t think of any other reason why these nice ordinary people would be seeing this play or indeed recognising Bradley. So he went over to say hello. It wasn’t that he normally pursued the fans, but in this situation he felt he probably had far more in common with them than with anyone else at the theatre, possibly even including Colin at this stage. ‘Hi, I’m Bradley,’ he said.

‘Hello,’ and, ‘Yes, we know,’ and giggles greeted him. Two of them were quite young, the others were a bit older. All women. One of the older ones shook his hand and introduced everyone. They got him to sign their programs, and he manfully resisted the urge to draw horns on the photo of Colin or write any rude captions.

‘Well, what do you think of the play?’ he asked. ‘Bit avant garde, isn’t it?’

They agreed, but had done their homework, and could not only illuminate a few plot points for him but also confirmed that pretty much all the characters were bent. There was much blushing at this, and not only from the fans.

Bradley changed the topic, and talked a bit about the second season of _Merlin_ , which they would start shooting in just over a week’s time.

A ghastly buzzing apparently signalled the imminent start of Act Two rather than a fire, so they all began making their way back in. However, one of the older fans stopped Bradley with a hand on his arm. Grimaced apologetically, and asked quietly, ‘Why’s he doing this? Why is Colin doing this play?’

Bradley shrugged, not letting his game face slip. ‘Favour for a friend, I understand. They couldn’t get funding without a known name in the cast.’ Then he was foolish enough to ask, ‘Why?’

‘There are some pretty horrible rumours going around. Not that he’s… I don’t mean the ones about him being gay. I don’t think anyone much would care about that, either way. But other things. I don’t want to believe them.’

‘Then, don’t,’ he said, quite honestly. ‘Ninety percent of what you hear is rubbish, even in the news, when it comes to celebrities.’

‘All right,’ she said with a grateful smile. Not wholly convinced, perhaps, but willing to take his point on board. ‘Thank you, Bradley. You’re a gentleman.’

He offered her Arthur’s most courteous bow, and escorted her to join her friends.

♦

Colin was just as compelling in the second act, if not more so. Which was a bit unfortunate as it meant Bradley spent forty–five minutes staring at his friend bare–foot and bare–chested, in nothing more than _very_ low–slung black jeans, and ensuring his character’s bentness was far less subtle than in Act One. It didn’t help that Colin looked a treat, in a scruffy kind of way. His hair was longer and had gone quite wild. He sported a beard, which made him seem shockingly manly. His chest and biceps confirmed that impression. And his jeans rode low enough to display the top of the V starting just within his hipbones when viewed from the front – not to mention the first swell of his neat buttocks when viewed from the rear. Added to which, the denim was snug enough to delineate the Morgan family jewels in all their glory.

Colin was indeed quite something. Bradley suspected that the _Merlin_ fans must be having rather a lot of fun.

♦

Afterwards Bradley was asked to wait outside with the other groupies, even though the Keeper of the Stage Door said Colin was expecting him. Bradley shrugged, and headed over to chat with his new mates.

As expected, they were all fanning themselves with their programs, and one of them was exclaiming, ‘He is _so_ gorgeous!’ Though when she saw Bradley approach, she said, ‘Oh, you’re both gorgeous, of course.’

‘No, fair’s fair,’ he responded. ‘He’s gorgeous, you’re right. There’s no way I could carry off those jeans.’

They looked him over speculatively, and were kind enough to quibble.

Bradley changed the subject. They talked about _Merlin_ stuff – possible storylines in the second season, and where he saw the show ultimately going, and whether Arthur was actually going to marry Gwen. Much of which he had to let slip by with a wink and, ‘No comment.’

After only ten minutes or so, Colin appeared, dressed a little more decently in a t–shirt and regular blue jeans, but still… well, gorgeous. ‘Hello, ladies,’ he greeted them all. Including Bradley.

Bradley rolled his eyes and stayed out of the way while Colin chatted and signed programs. ‘You didn’t deface my photos,’ Colin observed to Bradley while still working through them.

‘Well, I _did_ ,’ Bradley replied, ‘but then I had to buy them all new ones, cos _apparently_ they all think you’re worth looking at.’ There was a fair amount of giggling and smirking at this, and not only from the fans. Bradley commented, ‘Obviously they touched up that photo, though. Amazing what you can do with the pixels these days…’

Colin finally wound things up with the women. He indicated the stage door guy. ‘Dan here is gonna call you a taxi, yeah? This isn’t a great part of town.’

They thanked him, and shifted off to one side. Bradley stepped up, assuming he’d be invited in. However, it seemed that Colin had other plans. ‘Bradley, I’d take you backstage, but my dressing room is basically a closet. Not even a converted one.’

Quick as a flash, he muttered, ‘Would have thought closets were a dead concept around here.’

Colin favoured him with a sardonic look. Then seemed to be considering something very serious while examining Bradley quite minutely. ‘Um…’ Colin finally said. ‘There’s something I have to do. So can I give you my keys? I’ll meet you at mine, all right?’

Bradley sighed, feeling rather disgruntled. ‘All right,’ he agreed, wondering what on earth he was even doing there.

‘I might be an hour. No more than that.’ Then Colin was pressing keys into his palm, Colin’s hand trembling as it wrapped around Bradley’s wrist to keep him near – Colin leaning close to murmur in his ear, ‘I’m just down this road. Big house on the corner, three blocks from here. Flat on the top floor, left.’ A flash of those blue eyes – shockingly blue even in this fitful light – and then Colin disappeared back through the stage door.

Well. Bradley waited with the other ladies until the taxi arrived, and then he set off down the road.

‘Stay on the asphalt!’ Dan called out behind him.

Bradley acknowledged this with a wave, and kept straight on.

♦

After two blocks, as he passed a tumbledown old warehouse or factory, Bradley heard a guttural cry, scuffling, another cry. He stalled, and looked around at the empty street. Nobody there, hardly even any cars, and everything deathly still. Looked back towards the theatre, but Dan had gone back inside, and there was no one loitering. No one at all. Another cry sobbed out, and Bradley sighed. He’d have to go investigate, wouldn’t he?

 _For the love of Camelot_ , he said to himself, trying not to be too ironic. He took his mobile out of his pocket, and headed up a wide set of steps towards a broken doorway. He thought about calling out, which might in itself stop someone doing something nefarious – but decided not to until he knew whether it was safe to draw attention to himself. It kinda depended on what was going on, and also on how many of them there were. So, in he went, clambering as quietly as he could over a tumble of bricks and broken wood.

Another cry, and he headed towards where he thought it must have come from, though the echoes were a bit confusing. He found the source only moments later. On the cement floor beyond another pile of junk, spot–lit by a rare burst of streetlight pouring in through a broken–tooth window. A man facedown on the gritty floor, jeans round his thighs. For a moment Bradley’s gut clenched, because the slim musculature and the dark head of hair made him think of Colin. But that was only an echo, dismissed a moment later. It wasn’t Colin, thank god.

A second man, kneeling behind, penetrating him. A third crouching beyond that dark head, pinning the man down with a hand heavy between his shoulder–blades. Masturbating as he watched.

 _Rape_ , thought Bradley. ‘Hey!’ he shouted in outrage. Everyone froze. Bradley stayed in the shadows, but punched a button on his phone, held the lit display towards them. Summoned Arthur’s authoritative voice. ‘Stop that! I’m calling the police.’

The two attackers were on their feet, and running for it as best they could while struggling with their jeans, heading towards the rear of the building. Bradley watched them go. Stepped towards the edge of the light. ‘Hey,’ he said, somewhat quieter. ‘Are you all right?’ Inane, he knew, but what did you say? ‘How badly are you hurt? I’m gonna call an ambulance.’

‘Fuck off,’ the guy said, already on his feet, doing up his jeans. Shaking his head at Bradley, looking exasperated. Bradley had another flash of Colin with his best _You **moron** …_ expression. But it wasn’t him, of course. Thank god it wasn’t him.

Bradley held out a reassuring hand. Started pressing 999 on the phone with his thumb.

But the guy said, ‘Just fuck the hell off.’ And he headed off in the same direction as the other two. He wasn’t walking real fast, but he didn’t seem hurt, either. Definitely not walking in the way Bradley wincingly imagined after suffering something like that.

Huh. Bradley cleared the number from his phone. Stared bemused at the dirty floor. Wondered exactly what he’d been witness to. Then he turned away and walked out.

♦

Colin was waiting for him in the street outside what must be his house – pacing back and forth, scowling. ‘Where the _fuck_ did you get to?’ he cried out as soon as he saw Bradley.

Bradley just shrugged as he walked up, and maybe he looked a bit shaken, because after a moment Colin sagged a little and bundled Bradley inside, up two flights of stairs.

‘Keys,’ he said tersely once they were at the door of the top flat left, and Bradley handed them over, followed Colin inside. Sat down in an old shambles of an armchair.

‘What happened?’ Colin asked.

Bradley shrugged. ‘Thought you were gonna be an hour. Has it been an hour already?’

‘No. No, I didn’t –’ Colin abruptly rethought what he was going to say. ‘I changed my mind.’ After a moment he said, ‘D’you want a beer?’

Bradley shook his head. ‘Something stronger. Or a cup of tea.’

‘There’s only herbal. Or coffee.’

‘Something stronger, then.’

And Colin went and fetched two tumblers, each with a generous nip of whisky.

Bradley looked around. An old apartment, very shabby but with plenty of space. Must have been quite something in its day. Anonymous furniture and no knickknacks, not even any pictures on the wall. No sign of anyone but Colin himself.

Who asked again, ‘What happened?’

So Bradley told him, concluding, ‘I don’t know whether it was actually rape or… not. Which is kinda bizarre. To me. I’d have thought it’d be clear.’

Colin had just sat there throughout in another armchair, listening to the story quite impassively. He left a silence once Bradley was done. Then he said, ‘You can report it if you like. But I don’t think you need worry. From what I know of this place, the guy probably came looking for exactly that.’

Bradley grimaced. ‘Christ, Colin…’

‘Welcome to the grey areas, Bradley,’ Colin said sardonically. ‘There’s black and there’s white and then there’s infinite shades of grey.’

‘Terrific,’ he said weakly. He’d never felt quite so… well, white. _White bread and mayonnaise_ , he’d been called at drama school once. Middle class. Sheltered. Vanilla. Which all added up to boring, didn’t it? Bland.

‘Bradley…’

‘The way the guy was crying out,’ he said. ‘I thought he was being hurt.’

‘Maybe he wanted to be hurt.’

Bradley grimaced at him. ‘Maybe you can live with that, Colin. Maybe you can live with the grey.’ He sighed. ‘There was this girl once. A while ago now. I was pretty serious about her. But whenever we, uh… had sex, she always sounded like I was hurting her. And I’d ask her, you know? I’d always make sure. And afterwards she’d tell me that it was all passion, not pain. And she wasn’t lying, I _knew_ that was true. But at the time, my gut reaction was always, like… like I was wounding her.’

‘So, what happened?’ Colin prompted.

‘I didn’t have the nerve to keep seeing her,’ he confessed. ‘I really liked her, and I just didn’t have the nerve for it. How pathetic is that…?’

‘Not at all.’ Humouring him, obviously.

‘Some guys would even have liked it, I guess.’

Colin smiled at him. ‘I’m liking that you didn’t.’

Which made Bradley wonder all over again: ‘What are you doing here, Colin? How do you fit into the grey areas?’

He shrugged. ‘Favour for an old friend. It’s only for a few weeks.’

‘But _here_? And staying here, too? You couldn’t have taken a room in town?’

Another shrug. ‘There’s other cast and crew living here, in this house. It’s not like I’m alone.’

That was almost what Bradley was afraid of. He looked at Colin, looked him over carefully. Was it just the beard? He seemed years older than the dorky sweet young guy Bradley had mucked around with for eight months of the previous year. He seemed years sadder. Was it just externals, like the beard, or had Colin changed? Was it about living here, being in that play? Some kind of method acting madness that Bradley had been unaware of, and Colin’s innocence last year had actually just been his way of becoming Merlin…?

‘There’s only five nights, yeah?’ Bradley asked. ‘Before the run ends?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘I just –’ Bradley shrugged. Thought again about what this place might be doing to his friend. He said, ‘For an awful moment I thought it was you in that warehouse. He had dark hair, thick like yours. His shoulders and waist, shaped like yours. His –’

‘His what?’ Colin asked, trying to mask a smile with a grimace.

‘I guess I was just flashing back to seeing so much of you on the stage. But for a moment –’

Colin considered him. Took a sip of the whisky. Eventually said, very slowly, ‘And who did you identify with, Bradley? The guy on the ground? _Me_ , on the ground? The guy pinning him down? Or the guy fucking him? Fucking _me_?’

He stared at his friend, horrified. And yet he became aware of a twist of desire in his gut, something illicit awoken by what he’d seen that night. On stage. And afterwards. Colin, in low–slung black jeans, jutting his hips like Jim Morrison, and challenging everything that Bradley thought he knew about himself.

Bradley asked, ‘Are you gay?’

‘Yes.’

Huh. ‘Are you… Are you in trouble of some kind? Is there something I can do –’

‘You want to save me, Bradley?’

‘Do you _need_ saving?’

‘No.’

Huh. Bradley looked away. Swallowed the rest of his whisky. ‘At the risk of sounding pathetic again, I have to say: I don’t understand what’s going on.’

‘Nothing’s going on. Not like what you mean.’ And Colin was indeed sitting there very calm and contained, and apparently fine.

‘Good.’ Bradley scrunched up his face. ‘What _do_ I mean?’

Colin laughed. A genuine laugh that echoed back over the months, recalling their friendship. ‘God knows,’ he said confidingly. ‘What’s that imagination of yours come up with, Bradley?’

‘Look, apparently there’s been rumours –’

‘They’re not true.’

‘ _What’s_ not true?’ What wasn’t being said here…?

Colin just looked at him. ‘Don’t listen to the crap. You know better than that. I’m fine.’ He sighed, eased further down in his chair, leant his head back. ‘I’m really fine, Bradley. Maybe you’re just seeing parts of me that you haven’t seen before.’

‘Well, those jeans were very snug. Also, not quite high enough at the waist.’

That earned him a filthy chuckle. ‘Seeing other _aspects_ ,’ he amended. ‘After all, we did share a trailer rather a lot.’

And it was true that perhaps Bradley was remembering Merlin’s innocence, in ways similar to his mental image of Merlin being younger and scrawnier than the actor who played him. More naïve. But that wasn’t Colin. Bradley had always known Colin wasn’t naïve, hadn’t he? Despite the producers and director all prepping him beforehand with, _You be careful with Colin, Bradley, he’s such a sweet kid. You play nice._ Well, obviously Colin wasn’t so innocent after all. Had that been their way of manipulating his performance, and the way Arthur treated Merlin? Or – ‘God, I dunno. Are you a closet method actor, Colin?’

He laughed again. ‘No. But it’s grey areas again, isn’t it? A role affects you. I think Arthur matured you.’

‘Um, well, thanks. I think.’ He wasn’t feeling very mature.

‘Do you read poetry?’

Bradley did his best deadpan expression.

Colin said, ‘There’s this American poet, Walt Whitman. He wrote: _Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself (I am large, I contain multitudes)._ ’

Now why wasn’t all poetry like that? He could follow that. ‘All right, so I’m just seeing one of your multitudes. Is that what you’re saying?’

Colin nodded. But then, just as Bradley had felt he was making some progress in this conversation, Colin asked, ‘Why did you come here, Bradley?’

Huh? ‘You offered me tickets.’

‘I offered you as many tickets as you could use. And you came alone.’

‘So? Not everyone’s cup of tea, this kind of play.’

‘ _Why_ did you come…?’

Bradley stared at the man. Those shockingly blue eyes stared right back at him, waiting. Bradley was being propositioned. Was he? Did he _want_ to be propositioned? He wanted more whisky, but wasn’t quite game enough to go pour it himself or indeed even to stand up. ‘Um,’ he eventually said. ‘I don’t think I contain multitudes, Colin.’

‘Yeah, you do.’

Bradley looked away. Suddenly all kinds of things were becoming clear to him. ‘There’s only one bed here, isn’t there?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re expecting me to stay the night.’

‘Yes.’

‘And I suppose the taxis won’t come now the theatre’s closed. And you don’t know anyone here with a car.’

‘That’s right.’

Bradley sighed. ‘And that hour you were going to take. You were after a quickie. Why’s that? Did you want to feel less tempted to jump me?’

‘Yes. But I changed my mind.’

‘Why? I mean, which bit did you change your mind about – and why?’

Colin shrugged, and then rubbed at his face with both hands. ‘I don’t have _all_ the answers, Bradley.’

‘Try me.’

‘I changed my mind about all of it, several times. I thought we could pretend. Avoid all this. I thought we could share a bed without me jumping you, if I got it out of my system for the night. But then I realised there’s no point in me pretending. Not when you came here alone. And you didn’t take that taxi back to town with our _Merlin_ friends. God, does any of that sound coherent? I hardly even know what I’m saying any more.’

Bradley just stared at him. It was really all very clear. Had he known all along at some level? He must have.

Colin sighed, and pushed himself up straighter. ‘I’ll walk you back into town, if you want. It’s a bit of a hike, but it’s doable. There’s a hotel not far in from the outskirts.’

Bradley stared some more. And then he said, ‘Actually, I think that won’t be necessary.’

‘What?’

‘I think I want to be jumped.’

♦

They didn’t kiss or touch or hug or anything. Bradley simply followed Colin into the bedroom, and they each undressed themselves on either side of the double bed, watching each other. Colin was engorged, his cock hanging thick and heavy against his thighs. Bradley knew his own interest was less obvious, but Colin didn’t seem to mind. Then they got into the bed, waiting a moment, both lying on their sides, up on an elbow. Looking at each other.

Bradley leant forward, pressed a kiss to those ridiculously delicious–looking lips of Colin’s – and Colin’s mouth moved under his, parted, and they were kissing, and it was strange and kind of wonderful and – Bradley broke away, unable to contain the laugh that bubbled through him. Colin lifted a brow in query, but didn’t seem fazed. ‘I’ve never kissed anyone with a beard before,’ Bradley explained. ‘It kind of tickles.’

‘You just wait,’ Colin said in a promisingly thick Irish accent.

And Bradley groaned, and pressed close to renew the kiss and see if he could make it more wonderful still.

♦

He was fucking Colin. He was fucking the Colin who’d been on stage that night. Strong and lithe and sexy and bent and confident. Colin, stretched out long beneath him, with one knee jutting out to the side – and twisting back towards Bradley from the waist, his arm reaching back, with that hand pushing fingers through Bradley’s hair – then that hand dragging Bradley close for a kiss while Bradley maintained a slow steady rhythm, diving delving driving into that tight dark place that seemed formed to fit Bradley exactly, to encase him and clutch him and slowly send him wild.

♦

He was going down on Colin. Bradley had finally come suddenly, unexpectedly, and Colin had been left hanging, pretty much at the end of his tether. So Bradley pushed him over onto his back and went down on him, taking him in and sucking hard and fast – as Colin yelled in abandon. And Colin was so ready, so surprised, that within moments he was uttering a filthy curse, shoving Bradley out of the way, grabbing himself as he shot semen up over his narrow belly, spurting up to his chest – Bradley reaching a hand to weave his fingers with Colin’s, to tug all the possible pleasure out of him, then to ease him down slowly.

‘Fuck’s sake, Bradley,’ Colin complained after he got his breath back. ‘Do you even know the word _finesse_? Let alone what it means.’

‘Next time,’ Bradley promised. ‘Now that’s out of your system.’ But then he asked, conciliatory, ‘Was it all right, though?’

Colin tried to look sardonic, and totally failed. Those shocking molten blue eyes betrayed him when he said in an attempt at neutral tones, ‘Yeah, it was all right.’

‘I loved it,’ said Bradley.

‘Idiot,’ Colin replied. And kissed him.

♦

They dozed for a while, then dragged themselves out to the kitchen, and Bradley shared Colin’s herbal tea cos that’s all there was.

♦

Colin was going down on him. Colin took his own sweet time demonstrating just what a blow job could be when you not only used finesse but also had a beard for tickling while you used your mouth for licking and lapping and suckling.

Of course, it was taking forever with just Colin’s mouth, especially when he would not follow directions such as when to increase the pressure or when to keep doing something in particular – if anything, he would do the opposite of whatever Bradley begged for. ‘I’ve never come like this,’ Bradley eventually confessed. ‘Not with just a mouth.’

‘You liking it?’ Colin asked as he dropped kisses down the aching length of Bradley’s cock.

‘Oh god, what do you think, I am _hating_ it…’

‘Quit complaining then,’ Colin advised. Then he gently took one of Bradley’s balls into his mouth, closed his lips round it and _hummed_.

‘You bastard!’ Bradley was reduced to yelling. ‘For god’s sake! You fucking bastard!’

Colin just laughed, and then wriggled his tongue–tip in an infuriatingly intoxicating manner.

What felt like a century later, Bradley was muttering, ‘Please… Please… Just use your hand as well. Please, I’m begging you.’

‘Are you close, Bradley?’

‘Mate,’ he growled, lying taut there on his torturer’s bed, ‘I have been close for about a millennium now.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Colin quibbled. ‘If you can still pronounce four–syllable words, I think you’ve got a ways to go yet.’

‘God, I am so going to kill you when you’re done there.’

‘No, you won’t.’

‘Won’t I?’

‘No, cos then I’d never be able to do this to you again.’ And finally – finally – finally Colin did something tricky and unknowable with his tongue and his lips and his teeth and his breath – and Bradley shouted as he was coming, pulsing, arching – Colin grabbing his hips and pressing the side of his face down against Bradley’s cock, humming again, almost singing – and Bradley could swear he was so sensitised that he felt every soft hair of that beard against his shaft, every pore of Colin’s skin, every vibration of his vocal cords, and that beautiful sharp cheekbone hard against his cockhead. And the end had been so long delayed that he’d thought it would finally only be relief, with all the pleasure used up in the journey – but it proved to be the most intense, incredible orgasm of his entire life.

‘But it _always_ feels like the best one ever,’ Colin argued as he lay back on his elbows and let Bradley use tissues to wipe his semen off his friend’s face and hair and wherever the hell else it had landed.

‘Yeah, and sometimes I guess it actually _is_ the best one.’

Colin looked unbearably smug, but Bradley didn’t even mind.

♦

Colin Morgan fucking him. Well, Bradley would have agreed if he’d asked – with reservations, but he’d have agreed. Bradley thought Colin would insist. But he didn’t.

Instead Colin lay over him, and simply thrust long and patient and steady against the hollow inside Bradley’s hipbone. Driving himself slowly wild, while Bradley’s hands explored Colin’s shoulders, back, buttocks. While they kissed, or mouthed each other’s throats, or simply gazed at each other. Bradley had never just looked into someone else’s eyes for so long a time. And eventually Colin came, just like that, against Bradley’s skin. It was the kindest, gentlest, simplest thing ever.

Colin smiled afterwards, with his head on Bradley’s shoulder. And suddenly it was the old familiar smile – charming and mischievous. And Bradley remembered the wickedness that lay hidden just under the surface with Colin – that had always been there. And the sweetness from last year – that was here now. Maybe this Colin wasn’t so different after all.

And anyway… Bradley thought just before sleep took him… did he really care…? Because this Colin was so fucking hot…

♦

They slept late. Breakfast was toast, coffee and orange juice. They took turns in the shower – Colin said Bradley should go first, and advised with a wicked grin, ‘Don’t bother getting dressed after.’

Fresh and happy, they tumbled back onto the bed in each other’s arms, and made love to each other like that, holding each other and rolling back and forth, thrusting against each other, finding again that tender magical hollow just inside each other’s hip. Legs tangling and re–tangling. Hands shaped to each other’s nape as they kissed; hands tucked around each other’s waists or buttocks as they moved.

Their orgasms were a gentle profound spilling over. And Colin was smiling like it was the best thing ever, and Bradley knew the exact same thing could be read on his own face.

♦

‘I could stay,’ said Bradley. They were drinking coffee in the kitchen, standing around propped against the cabinets. ‘I don’t really have to be anywhere.’

‘I thought you were going to your parents for the week.’

‘Yeah, but – I could stay here. With you.’

‘No…’ Colin shook his head.

‘Afraid I couldn’t cope with the bad end of town?’

A wry smile. ‘Afraid you’d cope all too well, Bradley James.’

Bradley grinned. So maybe he was actually cool enough for Colin. Maybe just barely cool enough. So he got serious again. ‘What about Wales, then? Are we gonna…?’

Colin looked doubtful. ‘D’you want to?’

Bradley took a breath, and risked everything. ‘Well, I dunno. It’s just not gonna be the same without the beard. It’s the beard I fell for, you know.’

Unfortunately this went down like a ton of bricks. Colin was nodding, way too earnest, like he hadn’t even heard the humour. ‘Yeah, it’ll be different again. It won’t be like last night, or this morning. It won’t be like last year. Maybe it’s better not to try.’

‘You gonna be another one of the multitude of Colins?’

‘Probably.’

‘A different one for each season of _Merlin_ , I guess,’ Bradley speculated.

Colin sighed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Sounds fascinating,’ Bradley said, like it was already decided. When Colin looked at him, he continued, ‘They’re still all _Colin_ , aren’t they? I like _you_ , Colin Morgan. I’m probably gonna like them all. Or at least find something to amuse me.’

Colin busied himself topping up their mugs, carefully avoiding Bradley’s gaze. After a while, he allowed, ‘Probably.’

‘The question becomes how _I_ manage to keep _you_ amused…’

But Colin was smiling. In fact, it seemed like he ducked his head and turned away to try and hide how very much he was smiling. He actually looked happy. Bradley could feel his own smile grow in response. But apparently it wasn’t quite settled yet. Colin turned back around with another earnest expression. ‘You gonna report what you saw last night?’

Bradley’s hope plummeted again. Crap. This was where he proved himself deeply un–cool, he supposed. ‘Yeah. Just in case that guy ever wants a witness. Not that the police will even care, I guess. They’ll probably assume the same as you.’

Colin nodded. ‘All right. I’ll write down the address of the warehouse for you. The taxi will take you to the right station.’

Bradley stared at him. Had he maybe just passed that test? Or…? ‘Look, Colin –’

‘I think,’ Colin said, with an ironic lightness, ‘one of us has to have his feet on the ground.’

‘Um. Gosh. I get to be the boring one, do I?’

Colin gave him the most withering look. ‘The last thing you are is boring, Bradley James.’

It was alarming how easily Colin could mollify him. He was wrapped around Colin’s finger already, wasn’t he? Bradley shook his head, and offered one last argument: ‘If you’re looking for someone who won’t change, you’d better take into account that you just turned me bent overnight.’

One side of Colin’s mouth quirked. ‘I don’t think it was quite _overnight_ ,’ he said.

‘Oh yeah? Been a while coming, has it?’

‘Yes.’

Bradley sighed, though really he was singing inside. ‘Maybe it’ll take, then. Maybe it’ll stick.’

‘I’m counting on it.’ Colin Morgan had put down his coffee mug, and was prowling across the kitchen towards him on those bare feet, jutting his hips sexy like Jim Morrison. ‘I’m counting on you.’

‘You can,’ Bradley assured him. He ran his hands around Colin’s waist, and felt their bodies ease together in a perfect fit. ‘There’s one condition, though.’

‘What’s that?’ Those shocking hot blue eyes fearless on his.

‘Can we have beard sex one last time in Wales before you shave it off?’ 

♦


End file.
